Yellowstone – The middle of the winter on Firehole River Falls. The air is cold, crisp, refreshing. The light peeking through the cloud cover, as if to remind me of its presence after having snowed for so many hours straight. Alone while riding my snowmobile on top of the ridge. “Explore”, my father says, “The snow is the deepest it’ll be for the year.” And it is – at least much deeper than I expected. All the bears fast asleep in hibernation. The winter sky void of birds and life. Here in Yellowstone, life is in a beautiful state of balance, and reconnecting with raw, seemingly untouched nature is a much-needed embrace for the soul. If you speak with the locals, they will tell you that in Yellowstone, animals live by an unspoken code: survival of the fittest. This is readily apparent during the summer, as animals' carcasses and skulls are a common sight. At this time of year however, the almost 8-foot blanket of snow covers all evidence of the ferocity that is this great landscape. Alone on a ridge above the Firehole River, I find myself realizing the harsh contrast of the beautiful scenery with the true, unforgiving nature of the environment surrounding me.